LUCY WAS BRINGING A COUPLE of glasses of iced tea out to the farm stand when Temple appeared, followed by a tall, busty blonde who could only be Dr. Kristi. The psychologist wore a sleeveless green cover-up over a matching bathing suit. Her blond hair was slicked back from her face, setting off perfect cheekbones and plump, pouty lips.
Lucy had been expecting something like this for the past four days, ever since Temple had told her that she’d asked Dr. Kristi for help. Lucy had urged her to call someone reputable instead of the Fat Island shrink, advice Temple had obviously ignored.
Bree sat at the worktable she’d set up in the shade where she was furiously hand-painting the island lighthouse on one of her precious glass ornaments. She had less than two weeks to sell them. She straightened when she saw who’d arrived.
Temple was dressed in her customary yoga pants and tank. She plunged into introductions. “Kristi, this is my friend Lucy. And that’s Bree.”
Kristi nodded at Bree. “You’re the beekeeper. It’s a pleasure.” And then, to Lucy, “I’ve looked forward to meeting you, Ms. Jorik. Temple’s told me a lot about you.”
“None of it good.” Temple sprawled into the nursery-yellow Adirondack chair.
“Liar,” Lucy retorted, placing the iced tea glasses on Bree’s table.
“You’re right,” Temple muttered. “It’s sad to admit I’ve made an overweight runaway my role model.”
“She’s not overweight.” Bree tore her eyes away from Kristi’s porn star lips.
Overweight or not, Lucy couldn’t imagine being anybody’s role model, although she’d certainly learned some important life lessons this summer.
Temple assured her that Dr. Kristi wouldn’t blow her cover. After that, a silence fell over the group. Kristi examined Bree’s products. She seemed comfortable with the silence, but none of the rest of them were. Temple stared at her feet, Bree fiddled with her paintbrush, and Lucy tried to think of something to say before she remembered she didn’t have to be cruise director for this motley crew.
Temple hopped up from the chair and gazed at Bree, her expression belligerent. “I’m gay.”
Bree blinked.
Temple sat back down and stared at her feet again.
Lucy sucked in her breath. She understood what Bree couldn’t. This was Temple’s coming-out.
Another silence fell over the group. Temple lifted her head but didn’t meet any of their eyes. “I’m in love with a woman.”
“Uhm … Congratulations?” Bree turned the word into a question, then slanted an inquiring look at Kristi. “To both of you?”
It took Temple a moment to follow Bree’s train of thought, and then she shuddered. “For god’s sake, it’s not Kristi.”
“That was rather hostile,” Kristi said firmly.
“What do you care?” Temple retorted. “You’re straight.”
Kristi took a seat in the peach-colored chair. “Which doesn’t mean I enjoy being dismissed like that.”
Bree glanced at Lucy, clearly questioning what kind of loonies she associated with.
“Sorry,” Temple said.
Dr. Kristi gave a gracious nod. “Apology accepted.”
Lucy leaned toward Temple. “Have you talked to Max?”
Temple waved a dismissive hand, as if Lucy’s question were too stupid to waste time answering. Kristi cleared her throat. Temple glanced toward her, then mumbled, “Max hung up on me. She wants revenge.”
Lucy thought about it. “I guess that’s understandable. What are you going to do now?”
Temple fidgeted in the chair, and when she finally replied, she sounded as if she’d swallowed a bug. “I’m going to beg.”
Bree nearly tipped over her painting table as she came out of her chair. “Never beg! Never! It’ll rot your soul.”
Dr. Kristi regarded Bree with a seriousness very much at odds with her pornographic lips. “You sound as though you’re speaking from experience.”
Bree’s jaw set in its newly stubborn manner. “Ex-husband.”
“Do you want to tell us about it?” Kristi asked.
“Hey!” Temple said. “You’re my shrink.”
Kristi waved off her protest. “I work best in groups.”
And that’s what she did. For the next hour, Lucy found herself in the middle of a group therapy session that Dr. Kristi led with surprising skill. They touched on the lessons Bree had learned from her humiliating relationship with Scott as well as Temple’s need for perfection. Lucy restricted sharing the guilt she felt for hating her lobbying work so much. Dr. Kristi offered the comforting observation that more people should take a break from their ordinary lives to assess their future path. Gradually Lucy realized that Dr. Kristi was very good at what she did, one more shock in a summer filled with them.
Eventually the psychologist declared their time was up, as if this had been a regular appointment. Lucy tried to be tactful. “We don’t see this side of you on television.”
One of Kristi’s pale, beautifully shaped eyebrows arched. “Yes, the tiki hut and red bikini do tend to call my professionalism into question.”
“Why do you do it?” Bree asked.
“I suffered from bulimia when I was a teenager,” Kristi said matter-of-factly. “That’s how I ended up specializing in eating disorders. I took the job on Fat Island so I could pay off my student loans, planning to quit after the first season. But I fell in love with the money.” She crossed a long, slender leg. “I try to justify staying even though I know the producers care a lot more about giving my body camera time than showing much of the actual counseling component of the show. But our contestants have serious emotional issues, and I know if I leave, the producers won’t bother examining the credentials of the person they choose to replace me. As long as she’s blond and looks great in a bikini, they’ll hire her. So I stay.”
“Kristi thinks none of our long-term success stories would have happened without her,” Temple said tartly.
Kristi leveled her with a look. “The few long-term successes we’ve had … When Fat Island became so popular, I used the power I’d built to insist the show pay for real behavioral counseling. The contestants are a wreck after Temple’s done with them—destined for long-term failure, which I think she’s beginning to understand. Realistically, people with jobs and family can’t keep up with a two- or three-hour workout every day. And most of them can’t make a long-term commitment to healthy eating without ongoing support.”
The Evil Queen toppled. “I’m rethinking my approach, okay?”
“It’s about time.” Dr. Kristi turned to Bree. “Does knowing Temple is gay affect your opinion of Fat Island?”
“She’s too polite to tell you the truth,” Temple said.
“That’s what you think.” Bree’s red hair caught the sunlight as her chin came up. “I hated the show before, and I still hate it.”
Kristi nodded. “You see, Temple. The world won’t stop spinning because you’ve finally found the courage to live genuinely.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Temple said, but her heart wasn’t in it.
Eventually the conversation shifted to less explosive topics, and while Dr. Kristi asked to sample Bree’s new flavored honeys, Temple dragged Lucy aside. “Kristi’s attracted to Panda,” she hissed when they were out of earshot. “She’s got her eyes all over him.”
Lucy bit the inside of her lip. “Is Panda attracted to Kristi?”
“Have you looked at her? What man wouldn’t be attracted? Last night she wore her hair down, and she never does that if she’s not on camera. You need to come home right now and protect your turf.”
Lucy gazed at a completely ordinary swallowtail butterfly as if she’d never seen such a creature. “I don’t have a turf.”
“You’re an idiot,” Temple jeered.
But Lucy saw the concern in her eyes, not that she was stupid enough to mention it. “And here I thought you were turning into a kinder, gentler person.”
“Later.”
/> Lucy barely managed a smile.
BREE SPENT THE LATE AFTERNOON extruding more honey from the heavy frames, and she didn’t have a chance to clean up before dinner. Lucy insisted on doing the dishes afterward, and Bree put up only a cursory protest. She was heading for the shower when she overheard Mike and Toby talking on the front porch. She stopped to listen.
“I think you should ask Bree out on a date,” she heard Toby say. “I know she didn’t like you at first, but she’s changed her mind. Did you see her at dinner? She laughed at all your jokes.”
Bree moved nearer the front curtain where she could better hear Mike’s response.
“I wouldn’t make too much of it,” he said. “Lucy laughed, too.”
“But Bree laughed more,” Toby observed. “And she’s always looking at you. You should ask her to go out to dinner or something. Not to Dogs ’N’ Malts, but like to the Island Inn or someplace nice.”
“I can’t do that, Toby,” Mike replied with an uncharacteristic stubbornness.
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t.” A dish clattered in the kitchen. Mike’s chair creaked. “Bree’s worried about what will happen this winter. She wants to make sure she can count on me if she needs help. I’d do exactly the same thing if I were in her shoes.”
And Bree thought she was being so clever … She should have realized no one built a business as successful as Mike’s without having some insight into people’s motivations.
Toby wouldn’t give up. “I still don’t see why you can’t take her out to dinner.”
“Because she’d have to say yes, even if she didn’t want to.”
“She’d want to,” Toby insisted. “I know she would.”
“Toby, this might be hard to understand....” His voice was patient, the way it always was when he explained anything to Toby. “I’m not interested in Bree that way.”
He wasn’t?
She heard a chair scrape followed by the solid tread of his steps across the porch. “Martin!” Mike shouted. “Come back here! Toby, go rescue him before he gets to the highway.”
She’d never quite believed Mike’s recent display of indifference. She’d counted on his steadfastness, consoled herself that—even though Scott had long ago lost interest in her—Mike would yearn for her forever. What a fool.
She pressed her hand hard against her chest. She couldn’t bear another rejection, not from Mike of all people. Her heart thudded against her palm. She came out from behind the curtains, pushed open the screen door, and stepped onto the porch.
Toby was at the far end of the drive with the dog. Mike stood on the top step, a lock of light brown hair drifting across his forehead. Even in worn jeans and a white T-shirt advertising JAKE’S DIVE SHOP, he was an arresting figure, tall and imposing, his strong profile illuminated by the porch light.
The hinges squeaked. She walked toward him. Across the porch … To the step … “Come with me,” she whispered over the crazy thudding of her heart.
He opened his mouth. Started to refuse?
“No,” she said. “No words.” She caught his arm, drew him away from the house, out of sight of the boy and the dog, into the trees. She was fueled by panic, by exhaustion, by the fear that everything she’d built would slip from her grasp.
Her height had made her accustomed to meeting people eye to eye, but she stopped in a small depression that made her look up at him. Even in the dim moonlight that filtered through the leaves, she could see the resistance in his eyes.
“Bree …”
She slid her arms around his neck, pulled his head down, and silenced him with her mouth.
This, her kiss said, is to remind you of what you’ve always wanted and never had.
But as his lips covered her own, she was reminded instead of what she’d never had. Fidelity. Honor. Kindness. And something far less noble. An exhilarating, sensual pleasure free of the shame she’d experienced during her marriage.
Hot blood rushed through her veins, and all her senses caught fire. His kiss was the kiss of a man who loved to give pleasure. A kiss as unselfish as it was erotic.
He was hard, and she relished his arousal, relished knowing the hands splayed over her hips didn’t carry the memory of countless other women’s bodies. His mouth moved to one cheek then the other, kissing the afternoon’s honey from her skin. He reclaimed her lips, and she pressed herself against him.
He pulled back without warning. Only a few inches, but enough.
“Bree, you don’t have to do this.” He unwrapped her arms from around his neck. “I’ll watch out for you and for Toby. I don’t need to be bribed this way.”
She was humiliated, furious that he would think such a thing of her, even though he had every reason to. The only argument she could muster in her defense was the truth. “It wasn’t a bribe.”
“Bree, don’t do this to yourself.” He sounded tired, a little impatient. “It’s not necessary.”
She’d started this, which made it unconscionable to take her pain out on him, but the words spilled from her in a dark torrent. “You listen to me, Mike Moody. I spent years begging for a man’s love, and I’ll never ever do that again. Do you understand?”
“Mike!” Toby shouted from the house. “Mike, where are you?”
Mike stared at her, his eyes suddenly old and tired. Then he walked away. “I’m here,” he said as he stepped out of the trees.
“What are you doing over there?” Toby asked.
Mike’s shoes crunched in the gravel on the driveway. “Nothing important.”
Bree rested her cheek against the rough bark of the tree, shut her eyes, and willed herself not to cry.
AT DR. KRISTI’S INSISTENCE, TEMPLE restricted her workouts to ninety minutes a day. This left her with free time she’d otherwise have spent brooding over Max’s continued refusal to talk to her, so for the past few days, she and Dr. Kristi had started hanging out at the farm stand for an hour or so each afternoon. When Lucy finished her writing for the day, she joined them.
While Bree hand-painted a beach scene on one of her Christmas globes, the rest of them sprawled in her Easter egg chairs and combined group therapy with girl talk. They comforted Temple over Max’s rejection and told Lucy she should give up her lobbying work. They didn’t understand the obligation she felt to help children who hadn’t been as lucky as she’d been. Bree never mentioned Mike, although she talked freely about her marriage.
“It feels good to have girlfriends,” she said one afternoon. “I didn’t have any when I was married. I knew all they wanted was for me to explain why I kept turning a blind eye to Scott’s cheating.”
“Bastard could never pull that shit on you now,” Temple said, crossing an ankle over her knee.
“No.” Bree looked suddenly sad, then seemed to shake herself out of it as she gazed at Kristi. “I haven’t had much business this afternoon. Are you sure you wouldn’t consider—”
“No!” Kristi declared.
Temple and Lucy exchanged looks, entertained by Bree’s attempts to convince Dr. Kristi to wear her red bikini as a way to draw in more business.
“You wear it,” Kristi said hotly. “See how you like it.”
“If I looked like you, I would.” Bree got back at Kristi by putting her on the confessional chopping block. “I don’t understand how you of all people can ever feel inadequate about men. You could have any one of them you want.”
Lucy immediately thought of Panda.
Kristi shoved her sunglasses on top of her head. Even her ears were perfectly shaped. “That’s what you think. The kind of men I’m attracted to aren’t attracted to me.”
“Corpses?” Lucy said, taking the empty periwinkle chair.
Temple laughed, but Kristi pursed her pouty lips like the prim nerd she was inside that knockout body. “Go ahead and mock. I like men with brains. Thoughtful men who read real books and have interests beyond playing beer pong. But guys like that won’t come near me. Instead, I get all the pla
yers—actors, athletes, zillionaire fifty-year-olds looking for a trophy wife.”
Lucy rubbed an ink stain on her thumb, then decided to hell with it. “What about Panda?”
“A fascinating exception,” Dr. Kristi said. “He looks like he should be the leader of the beer pong gang, but it doesn’t take long to realize how intelligent he is. Last night we spent an hour talking about Puccini. He has an incredible grasp of politics and economics. And a social conscience. Did you know he still works with street gangs? Too bad he’s completely unavailable emotionally.”
“Because he’s in love with Lucy,” Temple said pointedly.
“Right,” Lucy drawled. “That’s why he keeps coming over here to see me.” Even though she knew it was better for him to stay away, it rankled that he hadn’t even made an attempt to contact her.
“Temple hadn’t told me about your relationship when I made a play for him,” Kristi said earnestly. “I don’t believe in poaching.”
“If you really want a man,” Bree said, “you should do what Lucy did. You should disguise yourself. Make yourself ugly so regular guys aren’t afraid to approach you.”
Lucy pointed out the obvious. “Making Kristi ugly would take a Hollywood special-effects team.”
A silver Subaru sped by. Temple gasped and shot out of her chair.
“What’s wrong?” Kristi said.
Temple’s hand flew to her throat. “That was Max!”
“Are you sure?” Bree asked.
But Temple was already running toward the house.
The three of them gazed at one another. Finally Lucy said exactly what they were all thinking. “I’d give anything to see what happens next.”
“You and me both,” Bree said. But just then a van filled with women and kids stopped. With a glance of regret toward the woods, Bree went to help them.
Which left Lucy.
“Stay right where you are,” Dr. Kristi said. “This is a private affair between Temple and Max.”
“I know,” Lucy replied. “But—” She jumped up from the chair and made a dash for the path.
The Great Escape Page 32